Thrillers (Sex & Violence Book 2) (2 page)

Gretchen lit another cigarette after putting her clothes back on, and climbed into the front seat to take up her baseball bat. She nodded at Ronnie, who smiled and turned off the highway and down another suburban street. Fitz and Gretchen prepared themselves for the next round of slaying, and before jumping out of the car the young woman took a firm handful of the bulge in Ronnie's pants.

“You’d better have this hotrod ready for me when I get back baby,” she said as she gave him a wink and leapt out of the car, immediately swinging her bat at the nearest zombie.

BORN TO LOSE

Gretchen looked out at the horde of undead surging towards her and cursed aloud. The last thirty minutes had gone about as bad as they could have gone. No loot, shit loads of zombies, and the pair of fighters had been separated from Ronnie and their ride.

Blood seeped from the bite in her thigh, and the young woman could already feel the infection creeping through her system. Still, at the moment she preferred to die later of the infection than be torn apart by cannibal corpses right now. Besides, Fitz was as yet unscathed and hadn’t seemed to notice her wound, so she fully intended to survive at least long enough to get her man to safety. It’s what Miranda would have done, and Mitch too, so Gretchen kept fighting. A fifth zombie fell to the hefty swing of her baseball bat as the heavy part pounded through the somewhat softened skull of the decayed humanoid horror that had been attempting to tackle her. 

“Where the fuck is Ronnie?” shouted the young thrill killer as she took the opportunity to turn and run alongside Fitz as the pair fled the failing choke-point they’d hastily constructed out of barbed wire and wooden pallets lashed to two parked cars that had collided at the mouth of the alleyway. Gretchen had been finishing off the ones who had managed to breach the fence while Fitz worked his way behind them to throw a quick zip-tie around the fence, it wouldn’t hold but a few minutes at best, though the thrill killers would take every second they could get to make good on an escape.

“There’s no way he’d bring the car down these alleys, too many chokepoints, if he’s still alive he’ll be circling around,” answered Fitz as he leapt into the air to hook the curved end of his crowbar around the bottom rung of a fire escape ladder, “We’ve got to go high or we’re gonna get boxed in.”

As Fitz pulled down the ladder Gretchen swung low as a walker that had lurched out of a shattered doorway, her blow struck it in the back of the legs and sent the creature to the ground. Fitz was already climbing up the ladder by the time Gretchen finished mashing the walker’s skull. The big man was careful to keep himself moving, and hoped against hope that his girl didn’t notice that he’d been savagely bitten twice on his left forearm. It had happened when he’d first opened that fateful loading door when they’d broken into the general store. He and Gretchen had bolted left after fighting their way clear of the first wave of zombies trapped inside, and Ronnie had been attacked by more coming from the street so had to book it to who knew where.

“They’re going to get inside Fitz, we’ll have to fight our way down too,” observed Gretchen as she kicked another zombie in the head just as she ascended out of reach of the oncoming horde.

Fitz grunted in agreement and extended a hand to Gretchen to help her up before he started hauling up the ladder. The young woman immediately started checking the broken windows and corners of the fire escape. They were in the tallest building of what had once been the modest downtown area of a small community that had been swallowed by the metropolitan growth of the city. Most of the old brick buildings had been knocked down, and the narrow streets had been expanded, though in this small section of town the old flavor had been allowed to remain.

Everything in this area looked to Gretchen’s eyes like storefronts that had once sold dusty antiques and overpriced handmade jewelry, with one or two dive bars and pool halls thrown in for good measure. For what it was worth she was very thankful that these few buildings had stood the test of time, as she, nor Fitz she imagined, would have relished being trapped on the low roof of some strip mall. That had happened a few other times in their past, and neither of them cared to repeat that particular level of suck. Not that they didn’t have a tough puzzle to sort out, and somehow without dying. The two thrillers rushed up the fire escape stairs, pausing only long enough to hurl a lone zombie off the railing and into the teeming street below.

By the time the pair reached the roof they had only counted one fire escape exit that had not already been locked from the inside, though sadly that door had been seemingly blown off its hinges. It was two stories down from the top, and since it was at six story building they were pretty sure it would take the zombies a good while to get at them. The horde would have to flood into the building, then eventually by trial and error they would find their way up the stairs, and finally to the open door and up the fire escape.

Zombies were relentless in their pursuit of prey, though were easily killed or otherwise distracted when alone or in small groups. These horde sized groups were nearly impossible to engage with deception or brute force, and since the bullets had run out years ago the thrillers had learned a long time ago when to run and when to hide. The problem with hiding, however, was that zombies don’t sleep, shit, or get hungry. The city was the only real safe place to hide, with three story walls that were a patchwork of existing buildings, metal plating, and scavenged timbers. The legions of walkers that would usually be banging on the city’s walls day and night were kept busy by the continuous deathrides by the city’s disaffected and violent youths. There was enough action outside the walls to keep most of the zombies wandering the suburban wastelands, though certainly there were still thousands slamming their fists on the walls at any given time.

“What I wouldn’t give for a fucking machine gun,” grumbled Fitz as he looked down at the horde below, “Bio-diesel and food we got plenty, but damn ya know?”

“Well at least we have the flares, might as well get those flying and see if we can get eyes on Ronnie,” said Gretchen as she kept her wounded leg out of Fitz’s line of sight.

The big man nodded and rummaged through his pack as the pair listened to the undead smashing their way through the building and making their way towards the roof.

MIRANDA

The zombie had torn into his shoulder, and wretched her head back and forth in a frenzy as she worked to pull free a chunk of Ronnie’s flesh. The thrill killer had screamed in pain and the car swerved violently. He’d already had to make one circle around the block to keep the fast growing horde from overwhelming Fitz and Gretchen as they broke into the general store. When the undead poured out of the door after the thrill killers Ronnie had planned on just plowing right through the crowd to reach his friends, and that was when he was bitten. Ronnie was a skilled driver, and had managed to elbow the creature off of him as he drove, then when he had enough of a clear path he dared to look back at the zombie. It was Miranda.

Before he dared think the thrill killer gripped her by the throat and held her at bay while he drove with his other hand. His sturdy leather jacket kept her claw-like fingers from damaging him any more, and within a few minutes he’d found an area clear of zombies. There was so much racket being made by Fitz and Gretchen that every walker in the area was vectoring in on them. Ronnie knew he had to go back, he knew he had to rescue his friends, and that every second was precious, but this was Miranda. There was no mistaking it.

Her long dark hair was matted around her beautiful yet blood splattered face, and her black and white outfit was filthy but still clung to her wretchedly attractive body. In one hand she still clutched her gore-caked hatchet, and thankfully Ronnie saw it coming and caught it by the handle before it slammed into his face. Some habits died hard when a person became a zombie, which was one of the key reasons that most of the walkers didn’t overwhelm the city’s defenses. Most of them haunted the places they lived, worked, and played. The two of them struggled briefly as Ronnie leap into the back seat with her and wretched the axe out of her hand, then pinned her down as she tried to claw and bite at him.

Ronnie held Miranda down by her wrists as she bucked against him and gnashed her bloody teeth wildly. He was a hardened killer, and yet in that moment Ronnie could barely see through his tears. She’d already killed him with the bite on his shoulder, that he knew for certain, and yet that upset him so much less than seeing her undead body squirming beneath him.

“Dammit Miranda, even now you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” growled Ronnie as he looked down at the zombie’s gorgeous body, somehow still achingly attractive despite the filthy clothes, bloodstains, and old bite marks that marred it.

Miranda heard nothing, or if she did her only response was to continue to snarl at Ronnie and push against his grip. The zombie arched its back and kicked its legs as it struggled, and Ronnie found himself getting uncomfortably hard. His erection strained against his jeans, and suddenly, with death looming, Ronnie found himself entertaining an idea that mere moments ago he’d have called insane.

“I always wanted you so bad Miranda, but you were Fitz’s girl, you know how it goes with best buds,” said Ronnie as he pulled the zombie’s hands above her head and pinned her with one hand while he unfastened his belt with the other, “But you know what they say, needs must when the devil drives.”

Miranda bared her teeth at him and snapped at the air between them, and seemed unaware of the fact that Ronnie pulled up her shredded skirt. Ronnie gripped the back of her leg and pushed her thigh back to expose her undead womanhood, and then he plunged his cock into her. Ronnie could have sworn for a moment that when he first penetrated her Miranda’s expression had changed. As the thrill killer pumped himself in and out of her he kept telling himself that he saw the glimmer of recognition in her dead eyes. Even dead, Miranda’s pussy felt perfectly fitted for his member, and Ronnie groaned as he had the best sex of his young life. The zombie pushed against him, and to the thrill killer it was as if she knew that they were fucking, and Miranda thrust her hips upwards as she arched her back.

He could almost tell himself that her snarls of hunger were actually moans of lust, and he drove into her as deep and hard as he could. Ronnie’s tears wetted the dried blood that was caked on Miranda’s face, and as he fucked her he wondered how many walkers she’d been able to kill before finally succumbing to the infection. He couldn’t help but to wonder how long it would be before he turned, and at that moment, with his thick shaft impaling the animated corpse of the woman he’d loved but never could have, Ronnie couldn’t have cared less. The thrill killer kept slamming his manhood into the zombie as he let go of her thigh and wrapped his hand around her throat. He held her head in place with sheer strength and leaned in to kiss her as he continued to thrust against her.

Miranda attempted to bite him, though Ronnie had his hand jammed up under her jaw, and she was unable to bite him as he planted a deep bloody kiss on her lips. It was an odd sensation to taste his own blood, but from her lips it tasted right somehow, and Ronnie moaned with pleasure as he exploded inside her thrashing body. Ronnie couldn’t believe how much he came, and kissed Miranda once more as wave after wave of sensation washed over him.

“If you were alive I think you’d have just gotten knocked up darling,” gasped Ronnie as he kept thrusting until his cock had gone entirely flaccid.

The thrill killer continued to hold Miranda down as he pulled his pants up and refastened his belt. Ronnie reached behind him into the front seat and hefted the gory claw hammer. Miranda was equally unaware of her pending end as she had been of just having been roughly taken in the back seat of Ronnie’s hotrod. Ronnie held the hammer aloft for a few moments, and then he put it back in the front seat with a deep sigh. The thrill killer hauled the zombie out of the car and shoved her to the ground before hoping over the closed door and back into the driver’s seat.

Ronnie saw a flare shoot into the sky, coming from back in town, and knew it was time to ride. It looked like Fitz and Gretchen had managed to survive, for now.

“Hell of a lay Miranda, you might be dead but don’t let em ever say you don’t still got it,” said Ronnie as he lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, then exhaled as he cranked the engine and threw his car into reverse, “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

With that Ronnie hit the gas and the hotrod peeled out, turning in a wide circle around the zombie as it got to its feet and started shambling towards the vehicle. The thrill killer put the car in drive and sped off back towards where he’d figured the flare had come from. He might be dying soon, but if Fitz and Gretchen were still alive it was his job to get them back to the city safely before he turned. Maybe they’d bash his skull for him once they got back to town, now that would be polite of them he thought to himself with a grim smile as he smoked and drove.